


The Time it Takes to Fall

by plumtrees



Series: Plum's Parting Porn-A-Thon [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drinking, Flirting, Frottage, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Destructive Behavior, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: Oikawa offered the glass as he took the seat beside Kunimi’s, still sneaking glances at his face. It was angular, very little fat to his cheeks, but his bangs softened his features a fair bit. His face was small for his height but not overly so, especially considering his large eyes. He had a delicate button nose and thin eyebrows. Even with the yellow-orange glow, Oikawa noticed his pale complexion, indicating that he didn’t go out much. Probably had little interest in doing so.And here Oikawa thought he’d already had his fill of beautiful people. The world was just full of surprises.





	The Time it Takes to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of people wanted OiKuni after Ode to Broken Things but I didn't want to write a spin-off, so to speak, bc I wanted this series to be its own entity. But there are little references here to OTBT, even though you don't need to read that at all to get what's happening here.
> 
> There is a bit of first time gone wrong bc Kunimi is in a Bad Place but dw Oiks does his thing
> 
> Prompt: "oikuni seducing one another at a masquerade ball/party"

Oikawa gave his reflection on the window one more look. His outfit was still as impeccable as it was when the evening started, but he continued to tug on his vest, pluck nonexistent lint from his coat. His mask gleamed with every movement, light gliding along the diamond at the peak of his forehead, the precious turquoise dotting the edges. It had been crafted for him, molded and cut so that it could accentuate his best features: the catlike edge of his eyes, the gentle curve of his face.

He spent a few more moments just admiring himself, uncaring about the age-old adage about how men shouldn’t spend too much time in front of the mirror. Vanity ran in the family, and so did the endless search for perfection. It was the reason his great-grandfather died: overworked in a workshop surrounded by paintings and woodblock prints, all sold off to make the foundation of their family’s fortune. It was the reason his grandfather was rarely ever home: chasing gratification in one foreign land after another, eventually dying on a ferry to France. It was the reason mother had taken thirty-two lovers but never a spouse.

As far as he knew—and he never really knew, with her—he was the only fruit of all her conquests, and she never failed to praise God for the fact that he was a splitting image of her, only in the body of a man.

(and he knew why that last one was important, in this day and age. He just hated that it had to be so.)

All thirty-two of his mother’s lovers had been stunners. Men and women who could command an entire room’s attention the moment they walked through the doors. Oikawa knew from his mother’s stories that there’d been all sorts. Scholars. Royalty. Common folk. Foreigners. Diplomats. It didn’t really matter to her. All she wanted was the satisfaction she could derive from their bodies, lovingly sculpted by Aphrodite herself.

Oikawa understood the appeal, especially now that he was a young bachelor, at that gleeful limbo where he was too young to be married yet old enough to partake in sex. He need not worry about whether they’d make a good life partner, whether they shared the same interests as him, or whether they could even read or write. He only needed to feel the heat swirling low in his gut, only needed to look at them and ask himself if he liked what he saw, if he’d like it even better if those lips were around his cock.

Through the glass, he saw the flash of feathers, eyes beneath masks clearly looking him over but trying not to be too obvious. Oikawa knew anyway. He always knew.

He loved it when his mother held these functions. There was never any shortage of beauties. Never any shortage of people ripe for the picking. For tonight, it’s a masquerade ball. Everyone was dressed well, draped in all sorts of colors to match the masks over their faces, chatting over the soft music that echoed from the orchestra in the corner.

Even with the masks, he could immediately pick out his types from the sea of strangers. There’s a tall one with a mask the color of spring’s cherry blossoms, his hair the same eye-catching shade. There’s one with soft silver hair that’s been not-so-subtly looking Oikawa’s way since he arrived. They’re all appealing, in their own way, but none on the floor held his attention quite as much as the lone stranger on the balcony.

His mask was already indicative of his status: an ornate white-and-blue fitted over the top half of his face, decorated with pearls, gemstones, short navy feathers that curved coquettishly over his temple. The eyeholes were cut larger than what Oikawa was used to, but it brought to view a pair of soulful brown eyes, generously framed by long lashes. Except those eyes were glassy with boredom, eyelids drooping halfway, mouth curved in a lax pout. A shame, he thought. Nothing highlighted beauty quite as well as laughter could. He leaned against the balustrade with a general air of disinterest, a glass of wine delicately held in gloved hands. Everyone around him seemed to be getting the message and wisely left him alone.

Oikawa was never quite as easily swayed.

He approached the stranger, not at all deterred when his frown deepened at the sight of Oikawa heading straight for him. He looked even more beautiful up close, the cool hue of the moonlight gliding flirtatiously over his lavish velvet coat. The embroidery was just as elaborate as his mask, the threads and finely-cut sapphires erupting from the hemline in the shape of surging waves. His waistcoat was plain in comparison. Just white silk, but it was an elegant choice, balancing out his entire ensemble. Easy on the eyes, as if he was brought here to simply be stared at and admired. 

Oikawa extended his gloved hand, palm up, and the stranger stepped back, staring down at the offered limb as if it was diseased. Oikawa, again, remained unruffled.

“Would you like to dance?”

The stranger didn’t even blink. “No.”

Oikawa paused. He’d experienced many rejections before, but none quite so forthright. “May I ask why?”

“You may not.”

“That’s a bit cold of you.” Oikawa puffed a cheek out in mock offense. “In all seriousness though. Is something the matter? I’m the son of the host. It would reflect badly on my family if even just one guest is having a bad time.”

The stranger’s lips thinned out, as if irritated that he hadn’t left yet. “Well you can calm your conscience because it’s really beyond your control.” he answered. Maybe he was hoping to leave it at that, but Oikawa smiled, leaned against the stone railings with all the gall of a man who wasn’t looking to leave anytime soon. 

“Please, elaborate.”

The stranger’s eyes flashed to him, heaved what he probably hoped was a quiet sigh, but Oikawa could see how his chest expanded, nostrils flaring in irritation.

“My parents made me attend in the hopes that I’d stop moping.”

Oikawa’s eyes brows rose up behind his mask, interest piqued. “A failed courting, I assume?”

“No. There was no courtship,” he spat out, like the word itself was distasteful to him, “that happened. We were childhood friends. He’s getting married soon.”

Emotion flickered on the stranger’s face. Something heavy and unreadable but looking a lot like sadness. Sorrow. Oikawa hummed, his heart sinking a little in sympathy. He let the silence linger like the somber stillness after the announcement of a passing, before reaching over to pluck a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray, extending it out to the stranger’s own glass until they clinked.

“Cheers. Uhh…?”

“Kunimi Akira.” he murmured, after a moment’s hesitation. Seemingly relieved to have some understanding wherever he could find it. Oikawa’s brows rose behind his mask. He’d heard the surname before. His mother might have mentioned it, though she never mentioned they had a son.

“Kunimi-san?”

Kunimi shook his head, the feathers fluttering cutely. “Kunimi is fine.”

Oikawa smiled mischievously. “Kunimi-chan?”

“ _Kunimi_ , Oikawa-san.” Kunimi replied primly. Oikawa blew out a small laugh.

“Well then, Oikawa is fine.” he replied. Though he was pretty sure Kunimi wasn’t going to abide by it anyway.

There really was nothing more Oikawa could say past that. Nothing more he could do than join him when he knocked back the rest of the wine. It was smooth going down and the buzz was pleasant. Perfect for a slow night, but he was sure that it wasn’t really what his companion was after.

“Not quite hitting the spot, is it?” Oikawa asked. Kunimi looked up at him, eyes bright with interest this time. He loved this. Loved the thrill of the back and forth that flirting provided. It was almost like a game of chess, only the rewards were much, _much_ more fulfilling.

Eventually, Kunimi smiled—still bitter and mirthless, but Oikawa would still take whatever victory, no matter how hollow—and put down his glass. He extended his elbow, and Kunimi took it easily.

“Follow me.”

 

\- 

 

Oikawa pushed past the polished cedar, crossing the threshold of his room with his guest in tow, the doors closing behind them with barely a sound.

He was aware that his bedroom was rather…opulent. Most of the people he’d brought here had gasped the moment he opened the door, and for good reason. His bedroom was already more spacious that most houses, decorated with a wallpaper studded with crystals, the ceiling a hand-painted mural by the best artists in the city. His furniture was all carved by the same craftsman, all with their intricate designs, inlaid with all sorts of precious stones.

Kunimi didn’t even blink at any of it, and Oikawa hid an impressed smile in the dark. He had a fireplace with several seats and side tables positioned around it, a fluffy rug at the center where he liked to fuck, especially while the fire was alive and roaring. He bit his lip. Too soon to be thinking about _that_. He waved Kunimi over to take a seat, flicked on a few lamps, took off his mask and tossed it carelessly over his desk. It was two quick strides to the liquor cabinet; with its massive collection of bottles from all times and countries. He flung the doors open, peering at the labels and bottles shrewdly.

“Sake? Shochu?”

“Stronger?”

A smile twitched its way up Oikawa’s lips. “Rum?” he tried, and narrowed his search when Kunimi hummed in agreement. “I assume you’ve had something to eat at least? If not, I could have someone bring us something.”

“I’ve had dinner.” Kunimi answered, getting comfortable in one of his armchairs. Oikawa hummed softly. He did see Kunimi nibble on the dinner served earlier. Hardly substantial, but maybe he didn’t have that much of an appetite to begin with. It would explain how thin he was, for one.

He dragged a finger over the shelf of finely-aged rums, some still in their cylinder caskets, some in fine leather boxes.

“How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t particularly care how alcohol gets in me.”

“A real drinker’s statement. I like that.” Oikawa whistled low. Well, there went his concerns about Kunimi being a lightweight. “But I’ll need specifics because I’m not popping out a three-million bottle only to mix it with tea.”

He looked back just to see Kunimi’s reaction, only to do a double-take when he realized his face was bare, the mask set down on the table beside him. Oikawa didn’t think at all that the mask would be hiding much, but the sight of his bare face was enough to almost unhinge Oikawa’s jaw.

“How about a bottle that doesn’t have so many zeros then.”

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time before Oikawa could respond, and he thought Kunimi knew, because there was a gleam of smugness in those eyes that shone even in the dim light. Oikawa tried to fight down his blush as pulled a Selección de Maestros from the shelf, cracked it open, and poured it out on two waiting glasses.

Oikawa offered the glass as he took the seat beside Kunimi’s, still sneaking glances at his face. It was angular, very little fat to his cheeks, but his bangs softened his features a fair bit. His face was small for his height but not overly so, especially considering his large eyes. He had a delicate button nose and thin eyebrows. Even with the yellow-orange glow, Oikawa noticed his pale complexion, indicating that he didn’t go out much. Probably had little interest in doing so.

And here Oikawa thought he’d already had his fill of beautiful people. The world was just full of surprises.

“Try it neat first. We’ll work our way down from there.”

Kunimi peered at him, face carefully blank. “Thought the goal was to get me drunk?”

Oikawa clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Of course not.” he raised his glass high, hand to his chest. “The goal is to have a long night of drinking our sorrows away, cursing relationships that never had the chance to blossom.”

Kunimi snorted. Oikawa smiled, unable to feel that he’d passed some sort of test. “You always this theatric?” 

“Theater’s been recommended to me as a hobby. Sadly, not really my thing. I’m more of a sports man.”

Kunimi paused in bringing the glass to his lips, eyeing Oikawa with a spark of interest. “What sports?”

“I find that I’m good at anything that involves balls.” he took his first sip as he waggled his brows, and he was blessed with a hint of a laugh, the amber mirror of Kunimi’s drink rippling with his breath. Oikawa took another celebratory sip at that, Kunimi following suit.

He watched Kunimi’s expression carefully, noting the shift to excitement when he took an exploratory sniff. He took a brief sip. Another. Then finally a more confident one.

Oikawa lowered his arm to the chair, glass expertly balanced between his fingers. “How is it?”

“Sweet.” Kunimi replied, tongue darting out like he could chase more of the flavor from his lips. “I like it.”

Oikawa purred, eyes curving in delight. “I’ve found that some guests tend to find this too sweet for their liking. I disagree. This happens to be one of my favorites.”

“I can see why they’d say that.” Kunimi nodded, took another quick sip. “But I have a strong sweet tooth myself so.”

Oikawa’s eyebrow lifted in interest. “What a lovely coincidence.”

Kunimi smiled around the rim of his glass, lips unsticking slowly. The alcohol had left a lovely sheen to his lips, like the sugary glaze of a fruit. Oikawa wondered if they would taste just as good.

“Why would your parents think coming here would lift your spirits?”

Kunimi shrugged weakly. “Admittedly, I’ve been cooped up in the house for weeks. I guess they were hoping I’d meet someone here.”

“Well, you succeeded. And congratulations also because,” he brought the back of his hand under his chin, grinning wide, “what a catch indeed.”

He held in his laugh better this time around, but the way his eyes sparkled was a reward in itself.

“You don’t beat around the bush, don’t you?”

“Only when I think that’s what will get me what I want.”

“And what makes you think being forward is the way to go with me?”

Oikawa took another sip, never breaking eye contact with Kunimi over the rim of his glass. 

“You’re here aren’t you?”

It could just be a trick of the flickering lamplight, but Oikawa could swear there was a shadow of a smile on Kunimi’s face. Too quick to be savored, but Oikawa was nothing if not persistent.

He’d get a proper one before the night was over.

 

-

 

The rum was hot going down. Smooth and sweet and ideal for slow sipping between hearty conversation. But the thing about conversation was that one could quickly forget to pace themselves properly in the heat of a particularly good one. He’d seen all kinds: uncontrollable giggling, ugly crying, running up to the toilet to vomit, or straight up passing out on his bed.

Kunimi, oddly, seemed nowhere near the danger zone despite being on his third straight glass. They were down to their dress shirts, vests and coats abandoned when the heat of the alcohol became too stifling. Oikawa popped open a third button, contrast to Kunimi’s immaculate form. He saw Kunimi zero in on his chest as he did so, linger there much longer than he did the first two times. Oikawa was about to point it out. Maybe tease him a bit, but then something hardened in Kunimi’s expression, and before Oikawa could identify it he suddenly downed the rest of his drink, slammed his empty glass onto the nightstand, stood, fingers working over pearl buttons.

Oikawa just barely had the time to set his own glass aside before he had a lapful of him, shamelessly straddling and inching closer, the whisper of a groan passing from his lips when he ground against Oikawa’s thigh.

“Don’t you wanna calm down first?” Oikawa cooed, carefully circling his fingers around a bony wrist, just barely stopping him from pulling his shirt off. “Some water? Maybe lie down? I can give you a massage.”

“I’m not drunk.” he whispered, and firmly pried Oikawa’s hand off as if to prove his coordination. The fabric slid off one shoulder. Then another. And Oikawa’s gaze couldn’t help but dart down to the teasing slopes of exposed skin; as pale as the rest of him. He could see the points of his nipples, feel them when he pressed close, lining up their torsos and winding his arms around his neck, crossings his wrists at his nape.

“I was under the impression that you wanted me.” Kunimi whispered, voice suddenly low and hoarse. Seductive. “Or was it just the chase you were after?”

“Not quite.” Oikawa reassured, one hand already high up Kunimi’s naked back. “Just…I wasn’t expecting,”

“Me to be easy?” Kunimi chuckled. His lips were wet and plush where they mouthed over his jaw, tongue and teeth following. The stutter to his movements gave away his inexperience. The brief hesitation before pursuing any action. “Maybe you missed the part where I was heartbroken and looking to forget?”

Oikawa smirked, slipped his hand high up Kunimi’s back and pitched his weight so that his body would bend back, Oikawa’s breath puffing out onto the sweet curve of his neck. Well, if it was haste he wanted...

“What do you want?” he whispered. Pressed a kiss to the delicate crest where his collarbones met. “What do you want? Tell me.” he kissed his way up to his Adam’s apple, the underside of his jaw, like he could coax the words right out of his throat. “I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

A jet of air blew past Kunimi’s nostrils, amused, perhaps a bit incredulous. But Oikawa had always been a romantic. And what was romance if not wild, grand promises? Moon-tinted kisses and naked bodies twined together in the illusion of eternity, making love to compensate for all the hate that made up the world.

They were not in love. But Oikawa had worked with much, much less than that. 

“Make me forget.” Kunimi whispered, the stretched skin vibrating under Oikawa’s lips. “Make me forget.” he repeated, and it almost sounded choked-up. As if he was begging.

Oikawa nodded quickly, kissed the side of his neck one more time just to watch him shiver. His hand had slid dangerously high up Kunimi’s thigh sometime between the exchange, and he reached over to fully cup his ass, to pull him even tighter against him, testing his weight before standing up.

Kunimi shrieked, arms and legs suddenly coiled around him like a snake, and Oikawa laughed softly, gripped him tight in a silent promise not to drop him.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Oikawa teased, pinching the meager swell of Kunimi’s ass. “didn’t I tell you I was a sportsman?”

He was far too light, considering his stature. Oikawa could feel the shade of his ribs from where he wrapped an arm around his torso. There wasn’t much on him other than bone and muscle. He kept himself thin and toned, perhaps for his former beloved. Shame what society’s standards drove people to do to themselves. Oikawa thought he would look more beautiful with a little more meat on him. Despite the bones, he was still soft under his hands, skin milky and smooth as only nobles could afford.

It was a quick trip to the bed, and Oikawa laid him down gently, watching him sink into the mattress, the sheets billowing around him and softening all the hard angles of his body. He even turned his head, burrowing half his face in the pillows and shyly looking up at Oikawa past his lashes.

“Going shy on me now, Kunimi?” Oikawa crooned, leaning in to nip the sharp jut of his jaw. “How do you want to do this?”

The pretense of innocence instantly melted away, leaving behind a teasing smirk bordering on evil, teeth slipping past to sink into his bottom lip.

“I don’t particularly care how a cock gets in me.”

Oikawa growled low. Pleased. Physically beautiful people were already such treasures but to find one with quick wit, a sharp tongue, only drove Oikawa’s desire even further. Whoever his former love was, he really missed out on this one.

“But that already implies a preference, Kunimi-chan?” he teased, and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling Kunimi’s senses but all he got for the nickname was a knee digging into his side. Fingers sank to the seam of his cleft, teasing what exactly he’d be doing if Kunimi’s clothes weren’t in the way.

He got his answer with the resulting shiver, delicious little tremors. He’d look so perfect squirming around his cock, speared on his dick.

Oikawa shuffled back a bit, unlaced his trousers to ease his aching erection, Kunimi doing the same in front of him. A lot more graceful. A lot more dexterous. Oikawa would have felt just a bit ashamed if he still had the mental capacity for it.

There was the shuffle of something hitting the floor, and Oikawa looked up, very nearly choked on his spit at the sight.

Oikawa didn’t even know how to begin looking at him. He wished he’d turned on more lights. At the same time, he thought he looked perfect just like this: the orange-yellow glow illuminating the sharp peaks of his body, emphasizing the soft hollows where light couldn’t reach. Oikawa could conjure up every mythological creature in the book to describe Kunimi in this moment but he knew none of them would do any justice. Could reach the level of temptation and seduction he was made for.

Oikawa didn’t realize Kunimi had been moving closer until his hands were already covering his, helping the suddenly-limp fingers push his trousers down, his palms gliding over Oikawa’s heated skin. There was something too intimate about it, having Kunimi this close, undressing him. He’d never let that happen before.

His pants joined Kunimi’s on the floor, and Oikawa made quick work of grabbing his wrists, pinning him down. Kunimi gasped as he fell back onto the bed, Oikawa’s weight above him, every curve and line of his body pressing onto his, their cocks grinding against each other, trapped between their bellies, leaking wet and sticky on their skin.

He leaned in. Sank his teeth into that willing neck and felt his cock throb in response when Kunimi threw his head back, moaned.

He was so responsive. So eager. The sound dragged out when Oikawa sucked, interchanging between long licks and bites to make sure the mark would last as long as possible. He liked making sure other people knew where he’d been, leaving trails like flags of conquest.

Oikawa gave the forming bruise one last lick, kept his tongue out so he could trace a path down to Kunimi’s sternum, making a detour to that pale pink nipple, still so small even as he sucked on it, flicking his tongue back and forth until Kunimi gave an impatient groan, hips already kicking to grind his cock on the thigh Oikawa had slipped between his legs.

He drew back a hand and spanked Kunimi’s thigh, just enough to wring a gasp out of him.

“On your knees.” he said, voice modulated deep and rough, enjoying how Kunimi’s eyes dilated, too visible with how close they were. 

He learned very quickly what worked. What made him sound and look good. This was one of them: the domineering persona. The master with the heavy hand and the low voice. It was surprisingly popular with the budding royals, the spoiled little brats who’ve never experienced being put in their place.

It seemed he made the right choice, using it on Kunimi. He pulled back to kneel, give Kunimi enough space to assume the position, and he did so eagerly, like he was looking to please. Oikawa allowed himself some time to admire the pale, unblemished expanse of his back, the delicate swell of his ass, tracing the soft edges of him with a finger, then ending his exploration with another slap. Stronger this time, on his left cheek.

Kunimi cried out, and Oikawa couldn’t help but smirk at how his cock twitched, heavy and dripping between his legs. Oikawa landed another hit to his right cheek, then right in the middle where his twitching hole was, rubbing the quivering flesh with the pad of his thumb to tease, testing the give of it.

He was tight. To be expected really, so Oikawa pulled out his massage oil from the nightstand, popping it open to release the smell of lavender in the air. He poured some over his palm, the length of two fingers, and rubbed profusely; touched it to Kunimi’s skin when he deemed it warm enough.

Even then, Kunimi gasped, muscles visibly tensing under his skin. Oikawa shushed him, leaned in close to mouth the skin of his ass as he circled the rim with two fingers, then, very slowly, pushed in one.

His entrance gave with more difficulty than Oikawa was used to. He wriggled his finger, curled a little, trying to search for Kunimi’s prostate. His walls were pulsing around him, in time with his breaths, but they were oddly quick. Almost like he was—

“Another.” Kunimi groaned softly. “Just hurry, please.”

“You’ll have to relax first.” Oikawa insisted, feeling a strange worry creep up at the back of his mind. Kunimi only shook his head violently. _Just do it_ he spat, and Oikawa pulled out his finger, lined up the middle, and pushed his way in.

Kunimi whimpered, squirmed around his fingers, and Oikawa slipped them out and spilled more oil over his cleft to ease the slide, tried to push his fingers again. _Relax_ he whispered, cooed over Kunimi’s nape and kissed his hairline hoping it’d be enough to get him to loosen up.

But it didn’t get easier. If anything, the walls around his fingers were tightening even more, making it hard to stretch, pry his fingers apart. Kunimi was trembling, but the tremors were not from desire or anticipation. It felt different. There was an odd rhythm to his breathing that mimicked hiccups. And when Oikawa pulled out, grabbed Kunimi’s shoulder to see his face, he realized exactly what was wrong. 

He was crying. He was trying so hard not to let it show, eyes stubbornly shut but Oikawa could see his lashes, all wet and stuck together with tears. His mouth was open, teeth chattering as he sobbed silently. He wasn’t even hard anymore.

Oikawa mentally smacked himself over the head for not noticing it sooner. For not seeing through the thick veil of confidence he tried to hide under. He’d already suspected. Already had an inkling that he had never done this before, but he’d assumed all this time he didn’t care. He’d been eager. He’d been willing. But he’d also been scared. He’d been ready to push his own boundaries in some self-destructive bid to forget his own heartache and Oikawa almost let it happen.

There’d been already so many things he’d broken tonight, so he figured he might as well. So he kissed him. Once in apology. Twice for comfort. Kissed even the tear tracks lining his cheeks, over and over until he could feel him relax in his arms again. Kunimi’s breath came in shuddering puffs, his heartbeat thundering against his chest. Oikawa cursed his own carelessness but tried not to let his own distress show. It wouldn’t do any of them any good, right now.

“I’m ok I’m sorry I just need to,” Kunimi clenched his jaw, an irritated, self-deprecating breath hissing past his teeth, “It needs some getting used to—”

“I’m not going to fuck you.” Oikawa cut off, pushing himself up to look Kunimi in the eye, even as he avoided his gaze. “Not when you’re like this.”

He watched the plethora of emotions cross his face; looking so much like he’d been punched; like he’d been told the gravest of news. Oikawa knew it was cruel, but he sat back, letting the space between them grow and offering no comfort when he made a sound like he was about to cry.

Oikawa felt…vaguely used. Like Kunimi had wanted to use him as a means to hurt himself only because he was too afraid to do it on his own.

Maybe the sad part was that Oikawa could have provided. Oikawa knew how to make sex hurt, but he knew how to make it _safe_ at the same time. For both him and his partner. And if he hadn’t been observant enough then—

“I’m sorry.”

Oikawa looked up, and Kunimi had his head bent low, bangs covering his face like a shield, thin, trembling arms wrapped around himself in meager comfort, shivering down to his bones. “I’m sorry I don’t—I was stupid I—”

Oikawa watched as his mouth hung open, as his teeth chattered and as he bit his lip in an attempt to stop it. This was the ugly side of love. The kind that poets never seemed to talk about. The kind that ended in beautiful people shattering at the wrists; got them chasing happier endings at the bottoms of bottles.

The bed creaked under Oikawa’s weight, and Kunimi only shrank further into himself, looking nothing like the regal, catty thing that Oikawa found tucked away on the balustrade.

“There’s more than one way to forget.” Oikawa whispered, reaching out slowly, as if addressing a frightened animal. “I could show you. But only if you still want to, darling. And only if you promise me,”

He pulled him close when he finally allowed his touch, making sure he was looking, making sure he could _see_ how serious this was. How disastrously this could have ended. “You have to tell me. And you have to be _honest_.”

Kunimi shook. Nodded and quickly tucked his head in Oikawa’s shoulder when Oikawa finally let him.

He let him cry. He let him settle his emotions and get himself together before stilling completely in his arms. Oikawa still didn’t move, simply breathed in the vaguely floral scent of him before feeling him shift in his arms, angle his head just so and meet him in another, more desperate kiss. One that tasted like regret and apologies. Bitter with all the baggage Oikawa didn’t realize Kunimi was carrying.

He’d known this was a childhood sweetheart. But just how much did this man mean to Kunimi, for him to self-destruct like this?

Still, even as curiosity burned in his gut, he didn’t ask. He just responded as carefully as he could, cradling Kunimi’s back and pulling them back down to lie on the bed, lips never breaking contact, tongues sliding over and across each other, soothing like salve to a wound.

Oikawa broke the kiss and crawled back down between Kunimi’s legs, listening for his breath, hands on his skin to feel for any changes. His cock still wasn’t fully hard, and he curled a loose fist around it, squeezing until his breath hitches, until a bead of white built on the slit and spills over to his hand.

“Is this alright?”

Kunimi nodded, keeping himself up on his elbows, eyes on Oikawa as if he was afraid he was going to assume that he was lying. The suspicion was there, probably won’t go away anytime soon, but Oikawa could see the truth in his response, and continued.

He guided Kunimi’s legs up over his shoulders, nosed his way up his swollen cock, teasing the underside with his tongue, lapping over the swollen head and digging into the slit with the point of his tongue before getting his lips around it, sucking it in expertly, hand flexing at the base. 

Kunimi sobbed, a wretched little sound, as he fell back on the bed, hips unconsciously bucking up for more. He’d done this enough times that he knew how to fight against his gag reflex, easily pushing himself further down on Kunimi’s cock until his nose poked at the base of wiry hair, dark and sparse. 

Kunimi made the sweetest, most timid sounds the moment Oikawa got his mouth on his cock, but it was nothing compared to the absolutely _filthy_ noises passing from his lips now. Oikawa still loved how responsive he was; twitching even with the slightest pressure of Oikawa’s tongue. It didn’t take much to coax him back to full hardness, didn’t take much to get him to start thrusting into Oikawa’s mouth, careless about anything but the pursuit of his orgasm.

He couldn’t really hear much anymore. Not through his own moans. Not through the blood gushing past his ears. Not through the cover of Kunimi’s thighs, tightening around him like they were desperate to crush his head between them. But between the moans and gasps, he thought he’d heard a name. Choked and garbled and far too many hard syllables to be his; unmistakable from the raw emotion in Kunimi’s voice, from how he said it just as his hips gave one last buck, cock twitching and spilling into Oikawa’s mouth, straight down his throat.

He swallowed around the length of his cock, thrilling at how Kunimi trembled around him, whimpering from the excess stimulation on his oversensitive cock.

“Oh god.” Kunimi whined, voice cracking. “Oh god that’s so…” he let out a breath instead, a slow, shuddering exhale, like he ran out of words. Oikawa granted him some mercy, lifted off his cock with one last parting lick at the head, chuckling softly when it twitched weakly.

He looked so good like that, unable to speak, completely out of breath and blushed pink in all the right places. His chest gleamed with every heaving breath, and Oikawa leaned in close to suck on a nipple, enjoying the resultant squeal, the tremor that simple act awakened.

“Oikawa,” Kunimi whined, and god what Oikawa would do just to hear him say his name like that again, “n-no.”

He popped off with a vindictive nibble, looking up at him with a pout. Kunimi pointedly looked away, burrowing his face into the pillow, eyes shining.

Oiakwa watched patiently as he opened his mouth. Shut it again. Watched as his eyes traveled this way and that like he could find his words in the dark corners of Oikawa’s room. For a while, he said nothing. And still, Oikawa waited.

“Did you come?”

 

_Oh?_

 

Oikawa couldn’t help the adoring noise that poured out of him. Couldn’t help how he surged forward to kiss those bite-swollen lips, swallowing the surprised squeak. Such a sweet boy.

“Can I,” Kunimi murmured, once Oikawa drew back long enough. He was so endearingly shy, with how red he was, with how he couldn’t even look up at his face. “I can help…”

Oikawa shushed him. Hooked hands under his knees and lined their hips together so that his soft, rounded ass could cradle his cock. His cleft was still slick with spare lubricant, his hole puffy and red and a mess of spit and come where it had dripped down.

Kunimi gasped at the first full thrust, his hips bumping against his ass, the tip threatening to push in but just sliding smoothly over skin, just enough friction to get Oikawa groaning, eyes rolling shut. Kunimi’s so warm and soft, legs trembling in his hold as he continued to move like he’s fucking him, wet and sloppy and perfectly shameless.

“When you’re ready I’ll fuck you like this.” Oikawa growled, manic and eager. “Would you be a good boy for me? Stick your fingers in yourself? Stretch yourself out good so that you’ll be ready for my cock next time?”

Kunimi moaned, hand scrabbling in the sheets to anchor himself. Hold himself there so Oikawa could slam harder against him, their music of sex reaching a crescendo. Oikawa continued to whisper vulgarities into the air, these vague promises of a repeat as foreign to Oikawa’s tongue despite the ease at which they slipped out of him. He’d never done it before. Never found anyone good enough to warrant a second go, but Kunimi…

He wanted more of him. Wanted another round of sex that wasn’t colored by the memory of another man. Wanted to crack that layer of inexperience until he found the natural tempter hiding underneath. 

He wanted to own him. He wanted to _ruin_ him.

“I could even send you a toy.” Oikawa continued, crowding in closer to hiss the words directly over sweaty, sticky skin. “A nice metal plug with a jewel at the base. It’d make you look so pretty, Kunimi.” 

He sealed his lips over the junction of Kunimi’s shoulders, sucking another mark there, savoring the salt of his skin, the softness of it under his tongue.

“I could,” Kunimi started his voice starting small, shy, but laced with a hidden mischief that Oikawa wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been listening, “I could even wear it to your mother’s next party.” 

And the image of it, the thought of Kunimi walking around his mother’s ballroom looking like a prince but all plugged up like a whore, ready for him to fuck anytime. Anywhere. _Fuck_ it was enough to chase him right off the edge. Push him towards an eye-rolling orgasm as he pulled his cock out from between Kunimi’s thighs and jerked himself off on his ass, spurting cum over the stinging, pink skin. 

Sex rarely ever left him _too_ winded, but for some reason it took him a while to even get up. He crossed over to the adjacent bathroom, ran a towel under the warm water and wiped himself down, grabbed another for Kunimi. He hadn’t even moved from where he left him. Just lying there with his arm draped over his eyes, chest still heaving with labored breaths. Adorable.

The first touch of the wet cloth made him jump, and Oikawa got a nasty glare for laughing at that one, but he made up for it with the gentleness at which he cleaned between Kunimi’s legs, his torso. There wasn’t much that could be done about the sheets. Kunimi looked like he might bite his hand off if he made him get up. Ah well. Not like he particularly minded.

He tossed the cloth away, landing somewhere inconsequential with a wet _squelch_. Just then, Kunimi groaned, long and low, sounding somewhat irritated. Like he’d just remembered something he was supposed to do. Oikawa blinked curiously, watching him writhe in the sheets like a worm trying to burrow deep into soil.

“Something wrong?”

“My parents,” Kunimi whined, though he clearly made no move to get up, “have to get home.”

“It’ll be fine.” Oikawa hushed, brushing the back of his hand over Kunimi’s hair. “I’ll have a messenger sent to your parents before the night ends. They know you’re safe here.”

That seemed to appease him, his fussing ceasing until he relaxed fully onto the bed. Oikawa did as he promised, quietly pattering around the room to blow out all the lamps before poking his head out of his bedroom door, waving over a passing servant to relay his message to Kunimi’s parents. She nodded, eyes bright and attentive despite the late hour, not even sparing Oikawa’s naked form a glance. Oikawa really had to wonder where his mother got their staff. Always so nonplussed.

He went back inside after thanking her, letting muscle memory lead him back to his already-occupied bed. In previous circumstances, depending on how good the sex was, he’d either have them thrown right out of the mansion, or at least moved into one of the many guest rooms littering the hall. 

But he had no desire to move Kunimi. The thought of even interrupting that sleeping face making something in him twist unpleasantly. He watched him for a while, just sitting on the edge of his bed and breathing as softly as possible before the iron weights of drowsiness began to pull at his lids. In another moment of carelessness, Oikawa lied down right beside him, giving in to the foreign pull to line his body up with Kunimi’s, rest his wrist on the slight dip of his waist, let their shared body heat keep them through the night in place of the blankets at the foot of his bed.

He tried not to think too much about any of it. Not about the things he said, in the heat of the moment. Not about how soft Kunimi is beside him, how nice he smelled, even past the musk of sex and sweat. Not even when Kunimi’s hand folded over his, their fingers slotting smoothly together.

He’d deal with it in the morning.


End file.
